


we're just another old sensation

by louistomlinsons



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 10:22:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/660852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louistomlinsons/pseuds/louistomlinsons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall’s parents don’t approve, with stern eyes and unwavering beliefs, they refuse to understand. But that doesn’t matter, because Zayn is loud laughter and sunny smiles and glittering eyes. Zayn is different and Niall doesn’t need approval. </p><p>(Or, Zayn is a promise and Niall is a secret, until it’s the other way around.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	we're just another old sensation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [1dsoupforthesoul](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1dsoupforthesoul/gifts).



> Wow this took forever okay. Hope you enjoy!! There will be a sequel!

“Did you hear about the new kid?” Louis asks, face animated and eyes shining like miniature suns. It’s how he always looks, appearing so excited about whatever conversation he’s having. The only time his eyes dull is when Harry is gone for long stretches of time. 

“We have a new kid?” Zayn is confused, having no clue what’s going on. He usually knows what’s going to happen before anyone else does, and being out of the loop is an almost painful feeling for him. He feels unimportant. 

“Yeah, from Ireland,” Louis says. His face lights up even more, like a Christmas tree when you plug in the lights, like he’s delighted that he finally knows something Zayn doesn’t know. From books to gossip to movies to homework, Zayn usually has the answer before the question is even asked. “He looks like he’s got a stick up his ass.”

“Well you’ve usually got Harry’s dick up your ass, what’s the difference?” Zayn shrugs off Louis’ protests and looks around the courtyard. Now that he’s really looking, he observes the excited energy of all the students. 

“What’s Louis off about now?” Liam questions, his bored expression showing that he doesn’t actually care. 

“Harry’s penis size,” Zayn answers without looking away from the courtyard. Now he’s scanning for new faces, anything else he might have missed while he was locked away in his own little world. 

“What’s wrong?” Liam asks. He knows his friend well enough, cares enough, to know that Zayn is upset and off his game. 

“Got into college,” Zayn says, kicking at the solid ground with his scuffed up boot. It’s got holes in the toes and the sole is falling off, but when people tell him to get new ones, he replies, “It gives me character,” and the subject is dropped and never brought up again. 

“What’s so bad about that? Sad you don’t have to take over your dad’s shop?” Liam’s tone is mocking, almost condescending. Zayn wants to cover his ears like a young child being yelled at and run away from all his problems. 

“Can’t afford it.”

“Scholarships?”

“I only get a partial one. Because living in a poor, single parent household will only get you so far when you’ve got a record like mine.”

“Zayn…” Liam contorts his face into a twisted expression that he uses when he has nothing to say. Zayn has taken to calling it ‘The Look.’ 

“I don’t really want to hear it,” Zayn says, stacking his books into a haphazard pile. Liam is always on his case about getting organized, but it’s not really at the top of his priority list. 

“You don’t really want to hear anything, ever, if we’re being honest,” Liam responds, his eyebrows coming together to form what looks like a furry caterpillar that refuses to cocoon and become a butterfly. 

“We weren’t being honest, but thanks, mate,” Zayn mutters sarcastically. He grabs his books and stands up abruptly, signaling the end of the conversation. “I have to get to class.”

“I don’t know why you bother, you’re not going to college anyway!”

Zayn would flip him off but his hands are otherwise preoccupied, carrying books that he’ll use to study with, not that it matters, because like Liam said, he’s not going to college anyway if he doesn’t find money, and fast. 

Zayn is so distracting drowning  in his own thoughts and worries that he runs into an open locker door, bumping his head first. The force of the hit sends his body spiraling back until he falls onto his butt, letting his torso flop as well. 

“I’ve officially lost all my pride and dignity,” Zayn groans to himself, not seeing any reason to pull himself from the ground. He’s humiliated and tired and thinks maybe he could just take a nap on the hallway floor. Do people who lose all will do that? he wonders. 

“Mate, I think you need help,” a thick Irish accent says, strained with the effort of holding in laughter. 

“Fuck off.”

A hand appears in his line of vision, the fingers wiggling in front of his eyes until he grips them tightly and uses them to pull himself up. He averts his eyes from the stranger, certain it’s the new kid he’s just made an ass of himself in front of. 

“Are you avoiding me now?” the new kid asks, and Zayn finally looks at him. He gasps, taken back by the beauty of the boy standing in front of him. He looks like an angel descended from heaven, arms toned and crossed in front of his chest, pale skin, unblemished by the teenage curse of acne, blonde hair that shines under the gross hallway light, ocean colored eyes, rolling like waves, pinkened lips (Zayn knows they are an exaggerated pink because the boy’s been biting them), and a cherub face. 

“You’re beautiful,” Zayn whispers, physically restraining himself from reaching out and tracing the features of the new boy. 

“You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t need to know you to want to get in your pants.”

“Sorry, not before the first date,” the boy shoots back easily, falling into the rhythm of Zayn’s  banter. 

“Prude.” Zayn smiles, brushing his fallen quiff from his eyes. “You the new kid?” he asks, though it’s pretty obvious because Zayn’s never seen him before. But Zayn doesn’t know how else to keep the conversation going, and he’s feeling awkward, the boy studying him carefully, memorizing every detail of his face. 

“Yeah, ‘m Niall,” he says, voice slurring together like his friend Harry’s seems to do too. “And you?”

“Am I a new kid?” Zayn asks teasingly, snickering slightly. “No, Blondie, listen here. I am the king of this school -“

Before Zayn can go on and further make an ass of himself, Liam comes to the rescue. He throws a sturdy arm around Zayn’s shoulders, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “Whatever shit Zayn is telling you, don’t believe it,” he says, warmth seeping into every syllable. He watches as Niall’s eyes become more trusting and his face relaxes. Liam has that effect on everyone he meets, his face so puppy-like that people just want to spill their secrets to him. 

“Zayn here was just informing me how he is the king of the school,” Niall says with a laugh in his voice. His eyes smile kindly at the pair, wanting already to be involved in their friendship and share the bond they seem to have. “Though I don’t think that’s true, he strikes me as more of a prince.”

Liam throws his head back and laughs, while Zayn allows himself to let out a quiet, short snort. 

“Zayn? A prince?” Liam teases breathlessly. “That’s a good one, mate. He’s more of an ugly duckling if I’ve ever seen one.”

“Just remember, dearest Liam,” Zayn warns, praying that Liam hasn’t scared this new boy off of him. “The ugly duckling turned into a beautiful swan.”

Liam only rolls his eyes before giving Zayn another squeeze and walking away. Zayn and Niall watch his back before his body disappears around a corner, swallowed up in the mass sea of students. 

“Well, if it makes any difference,” Niall begins, his eyes still shining and swirling with laughter, the sounds bubbling in the back of his throat and threatening to release their bell like tone. “I think you’re a beautiful swan already.”

Zayn’s smile could light up the whole continent of Asia for six months. 

~

After his last class, Zayn trudges to his locker, pounding it angrily with his fist when it doesn’t open after he enters the code. His locker hardly ever opens on the first try, and today Zayn is in no mood to mess with it. He wants to go out to his car, smoke a cigarette before driving to the shop and working until he gets hungry and goes home for dinner. It’s his routine for pretty much every night, except tonight is Friday so he’ll eat then get ready for whatever party is going on. He heads over there for a few hours, only allowing himself to drink maybe one or two beers before driving himself home carefully. 

Zayn’s tired of it, but he still wants to continue it, if it gets him out of being at home for lengthy amounts of time. 

He enters his combination again, and when it doesn’t open he pounds his fist against it twice before leaning against the cool metal and sighing heavily. 

“Need help, mate?” says a familiar Irish voice, coming from his right side. Zayn turns and sees Niall, grinning broad and bright, pink lips stretching thin. “Because I’m pretty sure pounding on it won’t get it to open.”

Zayn rolls his eyes and steps aside. “Be my guest. She almost never opens for me.”

“What’s your combo?” Niall asks as he twists the dial. Zayn tells him the numbers, making sure to pronounce each syllable articulately. It opens for the blonde on the first try, swinging open wide and showing off Zayn’s messy locker. “You should probably clean this.”

“You my mother?” Zayn grumbles, stowing away his books for the weekend and grabbing his pack of cigarettes and his favorite lighter. 

“They let you bring your cigarettes in?” Niall asks curiously. 

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them.” They walk down the hallway together, in silence. Zayn fiddles with the pack of cigarettes, itching to pull one out and light it. He wants to float in the calming it brings, the relief he feels every time he inhales the smoke. When they finally exit the building, entering the bright light of the outdoors, Zayn asks, “Need a ride?”

Even though Niall’s mother is waiting patiently in her car, he nods. He catches her eye through the car window and waves her off. With a disapproving look, one that says “we’ll talk later,” she starts the car and drives off. 

They walk to Zayn’s car, silent still. Niall has come to realize that Zayn doesn’t say much, though that doesn’t mean he has nothing to say. Niall hasn’t even known him for a day, and he knows that Zayn is smart and kind, full of jokes and thoughts and ideas that he keeps stored away from the outside world, keeping them for himself and his closest friends. 

Zayn’s car is old and seemingly falling apart. It looks barely held together, paint chipping and dents covering its sides. 

“Jesus Christ,” Niall mumbles, mostly to himself, “how does this thing even stay together?” Zayn smiles mysteriously before unlocking the worn down car, sliding easily into the driver’s seat. Niall climbs quietly into the passenger seat. The first thing that hits him is the smell, the smell of smoke having seeped into the fabric seats over the years. The seats are curved under his bottom, formed to fit someone else’s butt. It’s a weird feeling, literally sinking into the seat. Other than the general smell and mess of it being an old car, it is surprisingly good condition. Everything appears to be spotless. “More importantly, does this thing even run?”

“Well enough,” Zayn replies curtly. He starts the car without another word. When he’s ready to pull out of the school parking lot, he asks for Niall’s address. Niall answers with little hesitation. He had spent half an hour memorizing his address, in hopes that someone would offer to take him home after school. While he knows Zayn isn’t exactly who his parents would want him hanging out with, he can’t bring himself to care. “That’s a nice house,” Zayn says. 

“Yeah,” Niall says absentmindedly, searching for something to say to get the conversation rolling. 

“Your family must have a lot of money to live there,” Zayn keeps going. “What do you parents do?”

“My dad’s a lawyer and my mom’s a doctor,” Niall answers, wishing this whole topic of conversation could be avoided. He knows that if he wants Zayn to be his friend, he needs to make him feel comfortable, and bringing him around to his house was not the way to do it. “Sorry.”

“For what?” Zayn asks, eyebrows furrowing in what Niall concludes is the single most adorable thing. “Do you think you’re making me uncomfortable? I fix fancy cars for a living, seeing where those fancy cars go at night I suppose isn’t that big of a deal.”

Niall let’s out a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding. “Thanks. For the ride, I mean. I appreciate it. That way I can tell my parents that my first day wasn’t a total bust.”

“I’m probably not the person they want you to hang out with,” Zayn says with a mischievous smile, pulling into Niall’s driveway. Niall shrugs. “I mean, I smoke, I’m not going to college, and I work in a fucking car repair shop.”

“Every parent’s dream, I’m sure,” Niall teases before he can stop himself. “And I’m sure you could go to college if you wanted to.”

Zayn shakes his head, all traces of jokes and teasing long gone. At the puzzled face Niall makes, Zayn says, “A story for another time. Good bye, Niall.”

Niall opens his door but hesitates. Turning back around so he can face Zayn, he says, “If you’re the king of the school, you’re gonna get lonely ruling by yourself. You have a queen?”

Zayn shakes his head. “I’m a lone wolf.”

“A wolf can’t run things by itself.” Niall smiles softly, the corners of his lips barely twitching upward. “Goodbye, Zayn,” he says and forces himself to climb out of the car. They could talk later. He walks up to the front porch, and unlocks it, stepping inside without looking back. 

Zayn drives away and Niall watches from the living room window. 

~

The next day, Niall is woken up with a heavy, loud banging on his door. He pulls himself out of bed, the duvet still wrapped around his shoulders, tripping him as he goes to open his door. It swings open to reveal his angry mother, red faced and jaw tight. Her hair is half done, one side laying flat while the other is puffed up. 

He’s puzzled by how angry she seems at him. “What is your problem?” he asks, eyebrows pulled tightly together. “What did I do this time?”

“You became friends with that filth, let him bring you home last night, and now he thinks it’s okay to come here!” she screams, voice rising in pitch with each word. She’s flailing her arms around, and for a second, Niall is afraid she’s going to hit him. 

“Zayn?” he asks, confused. “Zayn’s here?” Suddenly, he is full of energy, all the sleepiness from a few moments ago, vanished. “Mom, Zayn’s here! I have to get ready!”

She looks affronted, lips pulled back in a scowl. “You’re going to hang out with him?”

“Well, yeah,” Niall says like it’s obvious. “He’s cool, and the only friend I made yesterday. So, yeah. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get ready. Tell him I’ll be down in a few?”

“No.” She stays planted in the spot, arms crossed. “You don’t need to get all dressed up for him. He’s nothing special, he never will be. You can hang out with him in your pajamas, but you will not do so here. Go over to his place, if you must be associated with him. I can’t stand to see you.”

“Can I at least brush my teeth and put on deodorant?” Niall asks rhetorically, though he’ll do it anyway. “I’m a teenage boy, puberty makes me smell.”

She rolls her eyes in disgust and stalks away. He closes the door and searches for the stick of deodorant that smells the nicest. He finds it and rolls it into his underarms, exiting his room to brush his teeth. Once done with that, he races down the stairs and finds Zayn standing uncomfortably in the middle of the living room.

“Hey,” Niall says, with a smile that he hopes will make Zayn feels less awkward. “Sorry, I wasn’t awake.”

Zayn shakes his head, almost as if to clear his mind, and shrugs. “No big deal. Ready to go?”

“I don’t even know where we’re going and I look like shit,” Niall says. “But, sure.”

“We’ll head back to my place first and I can lend you some clothes,” Zayn says easily, already turned to walk out the front door. Niall follows, trusting Zayn that they’ll have fun today. 

Zayn’s run-down car is sitting in the driveway, and it looks out of place sitting in their driveway, surrounded by unwelcoming looking houses. 

“Thanks,” Niall says as they get into the car. 

“For what?” Zayn asks, glancing over quickly at the blonde sitting in his passenger seat. He looks so natural there, leaning back with his eyes closed, half asleep in his pajamas. “All I did was show up uninvited and piss off your parents.”

“That’s a win in my book,” Niall jokes, opening one eye to stare at Zayn. “Also, you should drive before I fall asleep in your car. I’m pretty difficult to wake up.”

“I kind of figured when your mom stood pounding on your door for five minutes, shouting insults,” Zayn says as he starts the car and backs out of the driveway.

“Oh shit, could you hear her?” Niall asks, opening his eyes and bolting up in the seat. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you could hear her. I’m so sorry, don’t believe anything she says, ever. She’s a horrible person.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to say that about your own mother,” Zayn says, stopping at a red light. “It’s in like, the son handbook or something.”

“No son handbook,” Niall mumbles, closing his eyes again. “What time is it?”

“After eleven,” Zayn answers, the car driving once again. After one last turn they’re stopped and Niall’s eyes are opened again. They’re outside an automobile repair shop, one that reads ‘Malik’s’ at the top.

“This where you work?” Niall asks obviously. 

“Live next door, too,” Zayn answers, climbing out of the car. He feels embarrassed to bring Niall here and begins to think of it as a bad idea. “Maybe we should go. I need to work and I’m sure you don’t want to actually be here.”

Niall scoffs and rolls his eyes. “I don’t want to be any where else. Get me inside, Malik, and give me your clothes.”

“You just want to get in my pants,” he grumbles, unlocking the front door of the small, one story house. The paint of the house is peeling and the windows look like they’d break if a hard gust of wind blew on them. The door looks like it’s about to cave in on itself. “I must warn you, it is definitely not your house.”

“That’s a good thing,” Niall says, following Zayn as they walk in through the door. He takes in the scene carefully. The carpet has mysterious stains that he refuses to ask about (because then he might actually find out what they are) and the walls need a new coat of paint, the white now a dirty color, with handprints and other marks covering it. All the furniture is shabby, old and looking to have been passed down from many generations. It looks like it’s gone through multiple hurricanes and tornadoes and been struck by lightning.

But even looking dirty and old and ruined, there is a warmness to the room, photos of Zayn and what look to be his sisters hanging from the walls, colorful blankets laying on the floor and hanging off the back of chairs. There are paintings that look to be painted by a young toddler, signed Zayn with a date beside it. 

“If we ever hang out again,” Niall says, “we’re hanging out here. It’s so much better than my house.”

Zayn snorts sarcastically and rolls his eyes at the blonde. “I think you’re crazy. I’m pretty sure the only thing we have in the fridge is beer and maybe some cheese sticks.”

Niall smiles fondly. “I can live with that. We have foods with fancy names that I can’t pronounce and tastes that my tongue doesn’t enjoy.”

“I think the cheese is expired,” Zayn laughs, grabbing Niall by the wrist and pulling him to the kitchen. The kitchen is much like the living room; dirty white walls, barely standing furniture, colorful wall hangings. 

Niall notices a man sitting at a table, barely big enough for two people. He’s running his fingers through his hair, tugging at the ends and looking stressed. He looks like an older version of Zayn, with greying hair and broader shoulders. Zayn clears his throat and the man turns and Niall notices that he’s wearing glasses as well, perched on the very tip of his nose. 

“Dad,” Zayn says quietly, “what’s up?” His voice is concerned, eyes soft with something that resembles genuine love. Niall doesn’t remember ever seeing a look like that when he was growing up, not even when he was in a car accident when he was six and knocked his head against the window and gave himself a concussion. 

“Paying the bills,” the man, Zayn’s father, answers just as quietly. He perks up when he notices Niall standing awkwardly in the doorway, his wrist still held firmly in Zayn’s hand. “Who’s your friend?”

“Niall,” Zayn says, all traces of the worry before drained from his face. “He’s going to borrow some clothes and he’s going to keep me company while I work today.”

Zayn’s dad gives the pair a skeptic look before sighing heavily and returning to the bills without another word. Zayn takes this as a cue to leave and pulls Niall down what he assumes is the only hallway in the house. There are three doors, two on the left and one on the right. Zayn explains that the two doors on the right are the bathroom and his dad’s bedroom, and then opens the door to his own bedroom. 

It’s the cleanest room in the house (or what Niall’s seen so far), with paintings hanging on almost every free space on the wall. Niall can’t tell what color the walls are painted (he assumes the same color as the rest of the house), but it doesn’t matter because the paintings are beautiful, swirls of color that seem to depict human emotion. 

“Who did these?” Niall asks in wonder, mouth open in awe. 

Zayn clears his throat awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable. “Me.”

Niall turns to look at the raven haired boy in disbelief. “You’re so talented. These are…beautiful. God, that doesn’t even begin to do them justice. I just want to stare at them every second of my life that I’m not staring at you.”

Zayn let’s one side of his mouth quirk up in a smirk. “You don’t mean that. Neither I nor my paintings are anything special.”

“You underestimate yourself,” Niall says. “People would pay good money to have these hanging in their homes.”

“That’s the thing,” Zayn says, “I don’t want a bunch of rich people who don’t even understand the meaning behind each brush stroke to hang these on their walls just because they’re pretty. I want people who can relate to them to buy them. Imagine if your parents bought one, they’d hang it on their wall and beg people to compliment it.”

“Do you think people can really understand the meaning behind paintings, behind every stroke of the brush?” Niall counters. “Paintings are painted for the painter. Books are written for the author. Only the creator can understand their creation’s meaning.”

Zayn looks surprised. “You’re alright, Blondie.”

“Still want to fuck me?” Niall teases, a mischievous glint gleaming brightly in his blue eyes. 

“Yeah,” Zayn answers, “but I also want to hold your hand and paint every inch of your skin in bright colors and cook you dinner and fall asleep with you in my arms.”

“We only met yesterday,” Niall says breathlessly, as though that will make a difference. He doesn’t really mean it. He feels the same way. 

“See, the thing I feel people don’t understand is that love isn’t defined by time,” Zayn says in response. “How long have your parents been married?”

“Twenty years.”

“Do they love each other?”

Niall hesitates but finally shakes his head. It’s true, they no longer love each other, if they ever did. They’re mostly just tolerating each other now, going through the motions because they have to be a perfect family. 

“See, some people would claim that because they’ve been together for twenty years, they must love each other,” Zayn begins explaining. “But I’m sure they’ve slowly begun to resent each other. My mother and father knew each other their whole lives and divorced ten years into their marriage. They only got married because that’s what everyone wanted them to do. Now, we’ve known each other for maybe thirty hours, and I’m maybe a little bit in love with you. Give me another thirty, and I’ll probably have named all our children.” He winks to show that he’s kidding, but continues on. “Love does not know time. Love is an emotion, abstract.”

“Time is too,” Niall says weakly. 

“Yeah, that’s true. You can see time; you can see it worn on people’s faces. You can see it in the sadness in their eyes, the haggardness of their faces.”

Niall finally grasps what Zayn is saying. “You can see love, as well. You can see it reflected in people’s eyes, their touch. The words they say and the tone in which they say them.”

“But love is not defined by time, and time is not defined by love,” Zayn finishes. “There is no relation.”

Niall wants to kiss him. “Back to what you were saying. You’re maybe a little bit in love with me?”

Zayn nods eagerly. “I’m also going to kiss you now.”

Niall closes his eyes, giving his consent, and slightly parts his lips. He feels Zayn’s breath, ghosting over his lips and sending jolting electric shocks across his skin. Finally, their lips connect and Niall reaches to grab Zayn’s shirt, needing something to hold on to. Zayn cups his cheek gently, thumbing over the soft skin there before softly pulling away. 

“I wouldn’t mind kissing you forever,” Niall says, opening his eyes. He’s greeted by Zayn’s chocolate eyes, mixed with swirling golds and greens. “Except I won’t get the chance to do that because I’ll probably die when I’m eighty.”

“That would have been more romantic if you had stopped at ‘I want to kiss you forever,’” Zayn teases. He pecks Niall’s lips twice more before releasing his grip on the blonde and pacing to his closet. He picks out an outfit for Niall to wear quickly, a pair of blue jeans with holes in the knees and a plain black t-shirt that reads Malik across the front. 

“Zayn?” Niall says, as he begins to pull his own shirt over his head and then slipping the other one over his skinny frame. “Can I ask you kind of a personal question?”

“Of course,” Zayn says kindly, throwing the blonde a smile as he rifles through the drawer in his nightstand, appearing to search for something. “I’ll answer it the best I can.”

Niall drops his pants to the floor, standing in the center of the room clad only in a black shirt and his grey briefs. He’s never felt more exposed, even if Zayn isn’t looking at him. “If your dad owns the car shop, shouldn’t you guys have a bit more money than you do?”

Zayn stops his search and straightens, suddenly tense. Niall pauses where he’s buttoning the too big for him jeans. 

“Yeah, we should,” he finally sighs. “But we don’t.”

“Why?” Niall asks curiously. He wants to know about the mystery of Zayn’s life, wants to know everything about this boy; from the shampoo he uses to his favorite brand of paint to paint with. 

“My dad pays child support for my sisters,” Zayn explains, “And he’s pretty generous in the salaries of the workers. They make more money than he does, because he hates to see any of them struggling. He’s also saved some money for my sisters to go to college, because god and the rest of the world knows that my mother won’t be paying for their education.”

“You say he saved money for your sisters?” Niall wonders aloud. “What about you?”

“He always assumed that I would get scholarships,” Zayn mumbles quietly. Clearing his throat, he speaks louder, “I only received a partial one. I’ve been suspended one too many times, I guess.”

Niall goes silent, unsure of what to say. Deciding that words will never portray his emotions, he grabs Zayn’s hand and tangles their fingers together. He gives the calloused hand a tight squeeze and kisses the knuckles. 

“Well, I’d like to see you at work,” Niall says finally, to break the silence. “Let’s go!”

~

That night, when Zayn drops Niall off at his house, he skips to the door. He waves goodbye with a bright smile before opening the door and entering the cold house. His smile drops when he sees his parents waiting for him, faces angry as they sit together on the couch. 

The three are silent for a few heartbeats before Niall’s mother speaks up, “We don’t want you seeing that boy any more. He’s not good enough for you.”

“It’s more like the other way around,” Niall counters, “he’s too good for me.”

Niall’s mother winces like she’s been slapped in the face and Niall’s father recoils and twists his face up into an ugly expression. 

“How in the world can that…filth be too good for you?” Niall’s mother asks in disgust, like it pains her to even mention Zayn.

“He’s the smartest person I’ve met, and sweet too,” Niall answers immediately. “And his father is working hard for his family, and he really loves them, which is more than I can say about you guys. All you care about is what we look like to outsiders. And if I’m dating Zayn, then we must look fucking horrible, dating ‘trash.’ Well, I’m sorry that I’m ruining your reputation.” He stops speaking and turns on his heel, stomping out of the room. He can hear his mother sobbing as he continues to stomp up the stairs, but it’s cut off when he slams his door shut. 

After about fifteen minutes of being locked up in his room, he decides he can’t stay any longer. He has to get out of the house. He pulls out his cell phone and scrolls through his contacts, until he reaches the name he’s looking for. It rings and rings until finally someone picks up.

“Hello?” a familiar voice asks, confused and tired. It’s rather endearing.

“I know we spent the day together and all, but I need to get out,” Niall explains, biting his lip. He’s worried that Zayn is sick of him already, and that he won’t come and get him.

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

~

When he hears Zayn honk outside, he grabs his jacket and finally leaves his room. He hurries down the stairs, just wanting to be out of the house, and refuses to look at his parents still sitting in the living room. His mother is crying into his father’s shoulder, who looks like he’d rather be anywhere but where he is. Just as he’s about to be free, the doorknob grasped in his hand, his mother speaks.

“You’re seriously going out with him after all the pain you’ve just caused us?” she screeches, dancing on hysteria.

“I know you think I’m doing this to spite you, but I seriously wanna be with him,” Niall says earnestly. “I don’t know when I’ll be back. Don’t wait up. Call me if you need me.”

He twists the doorknob in his hand and leaves the house, shutting it tightly behind him.

Zayn is waiting in the car, a caring and understanding expression on his face. When he gets into the car, Zayn asks, “Where to?” and Niall says, “Just drive.”

~

They drive until Zayn finally stops the car, parked just outside a dense looking forest. 

“Where are we?” Niall asks, admiring the healthy trees and the way the setting sun makes everything appear to be on fire. “Are you going to kill me?”

Zayn snorts out a laugh. “Shut up for a second. We have to walk the rest of the way. It’s my favorite place to come to when I’m upset. I’ve never brought anyone here before, but you’re special.” He pauses for a moment before adding, “Our first son’s name is going to be William.”

Niall throws back his head and barks a loud bubble of laughter, pure joy running through his veins and making his fingers and goes tingle. “Why William?”

“After Louis,” he explains, opening his car door, hopping out, and slamming it shut. Niall watches him in amazement, wondering how he could have gotten so lucky. He realizes he’s been lost in his world for so long, he didn’t notice Zayn come around and open his door for him, waiting patiently for Niall to get out of the car as well.

“Sorry, just thinking,” Niall says as he hops from the car down to the muddy ground. His shoes will be ruined, but he finds that he doesn’t care. All that matters is Zayn. 

“You do too much of that,” Zayn teases, taking Niall’s hand and pulling him to a trail. It looks like it never gets used, the weeds and flowers and other vegetation forming a narrow path. As they begin walking, the path seems to get even more narrow. 

They walk in silence, the sky growing dark, changing from red to pink to purple to the darkest of blues. Niall relies of Zayn to guide him, trusting that the boy he can barely see will keep them on track and won’t get them lost. 

Finally, Zayn stops. In front of them is an open clearing, just lit enough to see by the moon and the stars. It’s cliché, but Niall has always been a romantic. There’s nothing spectacular about the clearing; there are no flowers and the grass is dry and dead. But Niall can see why Zayn loves it. Closer to the city, the stars are barely visible, if even visible at all. But here, miles outside of city limits, the stars shine brighter than Niall has ever seen, unlocked from their cage, finally able to shine brighter than artificial light. Niall wonders why humans ever destroyed this beauty, why they created light and made it shine so bright, that nature’s light was dampened. Humans say they enjoy beauty, worship the beauty of nature, natural beauty of the world, but they go and destroy it, ruin it in every way they can. Even the necessities, such as oxygen, they have gone and polluted. Once so pure, now almost toxic. 

“If we can make it to midnight,” Zayn says suddenly, tearing Niall from his disruptive thoughts. “We can see the moon right above us. That’s my favorite. I don’t usually fall asleep out here, though. I’m afraid of birds pooping on me, or snakes. I’m not really an outdoors person.”

Niall giggles childishly. “Okay.” Zayn’s grip on his hand grows tighter, a firm promise to be there, as their fingers stay tangled and they lay in the middle of the dead grass, dehydrated of water and burned by the sun. Niall enjoys how silent it is. He can hear every movement of the trees, how their leaves run together, how the branches grow so long there’s almost no room. He can hear Zayn breathe, deeply in and deeply out. There are animals, cooing and chirping and even distantly, the growling of predators, rapacious in their hunt.

Niall doesn’t know how long they lay there, until Zayn is pointing out that it’s exactly midnight and the moon is above them, shining so brightly. He thinks that it explains his feelings toward Zayn, how they are so obvious to anyone who looks, drawn in his eyes and on his face and down his body. In the way he stares and the way he speaks and his movements. It’s been just over a day and he’s in love, because he’s a teenager and that’s what teenagers do; they fall in love and make mistakes and then repeat it. Except, Niall is sure Zayn isn’t a mistake, with his calculating eyes and pouting lips and the sharpness of his cheekbones. His worn out clothes and his love and protectiveness of his father, the way he speaks of his sisters. His intelligent thoughts and the intellectual way he speaks them. No, Niall knows this isn’t a mistake.  It’s just the opposite. 

Zayn is the thing Niall needed, to get him thinking and speaking the careless thoughts that fly around in his head, bouncing from one side of his brain to another. He needed Zayn to show him that his feelings need not be suppressed, he just had to voice them in the right.

Just over twenty four hours, and Niall is one hundred percent sure that he could survive on Zayn for the rest of his life. He wouldn’t need any other human being, Zayn would be enough to keep him entertained and educated. 

Zayn is not a mistake. 

~

“I don’t want to go back home,” Niall whines once they’re back in Zayn’s car. He’s tired and cranky and all he wants to do is sleep, and he refuses to face his family before he gets a good night’s rest.

“You can come back to my place, crotchety old man,” Zayn teases. He starts up the car and carefully makes his way back onto an actual paved road. Niall is asleep by the time they reach Zayn’s house, looking too peaceful to disturb. Zayn sighs and realizes just how truly fucked he is. He gets out of the car and walks around the front, opening Niall’s door as quietly at he can. He’s careful not to wake Niall as he undoes the seatbelt and picks him up, fireman’s style. Niall only yawns and snuggles into his chest. Zayn smiles fondly and attempts to knock on the door. He assumes his father is awake, and his assumptions are correct. His dad answers the door and holds it open so Zayn can get them both inside. His father gives him a knowing look before shaking his head with a loving smile and walking back to the kitchen. Zayn follows before making a right to his bedroom. 

He lays Niall gently on the bed, on top of the covers. He carefully and quickly unties Niall’s shoes, pulling both those and his socks off his feet. His undoes the zipper on Niall’s pants and pulls them down as well. He knows how uncomfortable it is to sleep in jeans and he’s fully aware of how warm his room gets because there’s no air conditioning. He leaves Niall’s boxers on, not wanting to be accused of taking advantage of the sleeping blonde. Getting his shirt off will be more difficult, so Zayn decides to leave it and goes back out to the kitchen to bid his father good night.

Standing in the entry way, by their refrigerator that only works sometimes, Zayn whispers a “goodnight.” His father doesn’t even turn as he whispers the same. 

“Don’t stay up too late,” Zayn warns, knowing full well his father will ignore the warning and stay up until just a couple of hours before he needs to go to work. “I mean it this time.”

“Of course not,” he says, his pen scratching the paper noisily. Zayn isn’t sure what to say and when the clock on the wall makes an annoying noise, he decides not to say anything and just go to bed. 

“Love you, dad,” he whispers even more quiet than before, so softly his father couldn’t even hope to hear him. He turns and leaves, Niall’s snores sounding warm and inviting; an old friend hugging him with open arms. He crawls into bed with the beautiful boy and let’s the loud snores pull him into sleep, where everything is just as it should be. 

~

Niall is the first to wake up in the morning, faint sunlight drifting weakly through the thin curtains. He lays awkwardly in bed for a few moments, wondering what he can do to keep himself entertained. He gives up on that, though, instead rolling over and carefully arranging Zayn’s arms so they’re around his waist. He snuggles into the tough chest and breathes in Zayn’s scent, smelling the clearing from yesterday and the remnants of Zayn’s cologne or deodorant. Apparently his movement wakes Zayn though, because he comes to with a little shake and almost falls off the bed. 

Niall laughs sleepily, helping the boy to secure himself back onto the bed. He never wants to move from this spot and he tucks it safely into his mind, under a file that’s quickly growing, titled ‘Zayn.’ He wants to save this moment forever. Zayn looks vulnerable, all sleepy eyed and morning breath and fallen hair. 

“What time is it?” Zayn asks. He seems to be searching for something, squinting his eyes and staring at the dresser across the room from them. He then removes himself from Niall’s grasp (which evokes a pitiful mew from the blonde) and walks over to the dresser. He picks up a pair of glasses, sliding them on where they sit familiarly on his nose. 

“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” Niall says, feeling stupid. 

Zayn shrugs. “You haven’t known me all that long. I wouldn’t expect you to know trivial things like that about me.”

“I want to know these things about you, though,” Niall says earnestly. “I want to know what you sound like when you sneeze and what color brings out the gold best in your eyes. I want to know your favorite number and what you would name a baby girl, if you were to have one. I want to know your favorite book and a quote that you think of when times are tough. I want to know your beliefs on love and marriage and just life in general! And I don’t. But I plan on knowing them.”

Zayn shakes his head, fond smile tickling his face. “I could kiss you right now.”

Niall sits up rapidly. “Do it.”

Zayn hesitates, then crosses the room once again, sitting on the edge of the bed cautiously. Niall crosses his legs and Zayn mimics him, doing the same and putting his hands onto Niall’s thighs. He takes a deep, shuddering breath and then leans in, slowly, as if to give Niall the time he needs to back out. But Niall stays still and allows a shallow gasp escape his throat when their lips meet. It’s just a press of lips, with the promise of so much more to come. Niall presses just a tad bit harder and Zayn recuperates, opening his mouth and letting Niall slip his tongue inside. Niall licks inside Zayn’s mouth, wanting to taste everything and then takes Zayn’s tongue and sucks on it. Zayn releases a delicious moan, gripping Niall’s naked thighs tighter, digging his blunt nails into the pale skin there.

Zayn breaks the kiss, panting heavily and lips wet and kiss-swollen. He kisses the corner of Niall’s mouth, making his way to the blonde’s smooth chin and ghosting his lips down to his neck. Niall tries to smother his moan, he really does, but it falls pathetically from his lips anyway. Niall stills, wondering if Zayn’s dad is still in the house and can hear them through the walls. 

Zayn answers the unasked question in whispered words against Niall’s flushed neck. “He’s usually at work by now. We should be good until he comes home for lunch.”

There’s a knock on the door that startles them both, and this time Zayn does actually fall off the bed. The knob turns and standing in the doorway is Zayn’s amused father. 

“Today’s my day off, sorry lads,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. He chuckles once more. “I’ll let you ready yourselves, because you’ve got to work today and I’d rather neither of you go into the shop looking like you do right now.” He exits just as quickly as he entered. 

“I’m so sorry!” Zayn blubbers, spewing apologies as Niall laughs so hard tears slide down his face. “I thought he was gone!”

“Nah, it’s cool,” Niall says. “I honestly don’t think you’ve lived until you’ve been walked in on by a parent.”

Zayn crosses in arms and huffs from his position on the floor. “I’m glad that at least one of us is finding the humor in this situation.”

“Lighten up!” Niall says, out of breath from laughing so hard. He crawls off the bed and sits lightly on the floor next to Zayn. “I think I should probably go home now. My parents must have search parties out there for me.” He smiles crookedly, and Zayn can’t help but the way his lips twitch in a smile back.

“Yeah, I’ll drive you,” Zayn volunteers, pushing himself from the floor. “Though we might want to put some pants on.”

~

Sitting in Niall’s driveway, Zayn is reluctant to let Niall actually get out of the car.

“I really need to go in,” Niall mumbles against Zayn’s lips. “Like, I really need to go in. My parents must be worried sick.”

“You keep talking about your parents,” Zayn says, “and it’s kind of a mood killer. Do you want them to join us or something? Because I’m not really into that.”

Niall has to move away so he can laugh, a gross snorting sound that he thinks might make Zayn want to vomit (though it’s the total opposite. It makes Zayn want to kiss him until he’s breathless and gasping for more). 

“In your dreams, Malik,” Niall says fondly. “Now I really have to go. I’ll see you later?”

“Miss you already,” Zayn says, somewhat seriously. He watches as Niall reluctantly climbs from the car and slowly walks up to the front door. He pauses to take a deep breath before trying to open the front door. It’s unlocked and Niall turns to wave at Zayn, still sitting in the car, watching with longing. He looks like a kicked puppy, so unsure of what’s he done wrong. 

Entering the house, Niall doesn’t think anyone is home. It seems completely silent, not a single noise. But then he hears a throat clear and he realizes his mother and father are sitting on the couch, cold, calculating looks in their eyes. 

“Why don’t you invite your boyfriend over for dinner, dearest Niall?” his mother asks, false sweetness seeping into her every word.

“Yeah, um, sure,” he says, feeling awkward and slightly disturbed. Rubbing his neck, he excuses himself from the room and runs up the stairs to call Zayn and invite him for dinner.

“Aren’t you sick of me yet?” Zayn teases once he’s answered the phone. Niall breathes easier just hearing his voice, slightly altered through the phone. “Niall? Is something wrong?”

“Nah, just me being silly,” Niall says, almost honestly. “My parents would like to invite you over for dinner. Called you my boyfriend and everything.”

“Am I?” Zayn asks, mostly teasing but a tinge of something else, maybe curiosity. “Is that what I am? Your boyfriend?”

“If you would like to be,” Niall mumbles, embarrassed. “Any way. I’m encouraging you to accept the invitation, because I know for a fact that after dinner they’re going to a concert and won’t be back until after three in the morning, if they come back at all. So…we can finish what we started.”

Zayn chuckles nervously. “Sounds good. No parents are going to be walking in on us?”

“Nope,” Niall answers honestly, falling back onto his bed as his head sinks into the pillows. “We’ll be one hundred percent alone.”

There’s a pause before Zayn asks, “On a scale of one to ten, how awkward is this dinner going to be? And what should I wear?”

Niall giggles softly. “You sound like a girl. But um, it’s going to be eleven on an awkward scale. And you don’t have to dress up, but you should look…nice. You know what I’m saying? Maybe some jeans without holes and a top without grease stains. I don’t want you to impress them, per say, but I don’t want them to hate you any more than they already do.”

“That might be difficult,” Zayn snorts. 

“Completely true,” Niall agrees. “But, this is your chance to redeem yourself. Don’t fuck it up, Malik.”

“I’ll try not to,” Zayn says. Adding, in a calculating tone, “Boyfriend.”

Niall squeals loudly into the phone before ending the call. He’s mortified by how he must have sounded like a teenage girl just asked by her crush, but he figures Zayn might understand. He’s probably doing the same thing in his own bedroom. 

Niall’s right, of course. Across town, Zayn is dancing in front of his closet, clad only in tight boxers.

~

The doorbell rings promptly at six thirty and Niall smiles to himself. He has a good feeling about the evening. Maybe not the dinner with his parents part, but the rest of the evening he’ll get to spend with Zayn part. If getting the entire night with Zayn means they have to have dinner with his parents, then so be it. 

Opening the door reveals Zayn with tight black skinny jeans, held onto his hips with a dark brown belt. Wearing a red dress shirt with every button done up and the ends tucked into his jeans, Zayn is the image of every parents dream. His hair is done up, not a piece falling onto his clear skinned forehead. He’s wearing his glasses and they seem to work on making him look more sophisticated. Niall could kiss him. 

Niall does kiss him.

They stand there, in the doorway to Niall’s home, lips pressed gently together. Niall’s hands cup Zayn’s jaws and Zayn rests one hand on Niall’s hip. They kiss in the doorway until a throat clears behind them. They break apart and Zayn smirks at the blushing blonde. 

Zayn holds one hand behind his back and Niall cocks an eyebrow at him. Zayn smiles mysteriously before revealing what he holds. 

“Brought your mother flowers,” he says kindly, like her opinion of him makes a difference. “I hope you’re not allergic, and that you’ll like them. My father helped me pick them out. He said you might not like them, because he’s not a flower expert, but he says to let you both know that we tried our hardest.”

“Your mother couldn’t have helped?” Niall’s father asks, baffled. 

“My parents are divorced, sir,” Zayn says with a tight lipped smile. Niall wants to apologize for his parent’s behavior, for the way they act and will act, and the things they say and will inevitably say. 

“That’s unfortunate,” Niall’s mother says stiffly. She doesn’t believe in divorce. She says “once you’ve made that commitment, you stick to it.” Niall believes that’s part of the reason her and his dad are still together. That and most of his mother’s friends don’t believe in divorce either, and would judge her and shut her out. Niall always tells her that they aren’t true friends, but she cares more about her reputation. 

“They’re happier,” Zayn says with a shrug. He’s not bothered by it, anymore, and Niall’s mothers tone flies right over his head. He’s learned to get used to people believing him to be filth and below them. 

Niall takes Zayn’s hand firmly in his own, for support (either for himself or Zayn, maybe both). He feels like if he doesn’t hold onto one piece of Zayn, he’ll float away into the sky, burned up by the sun and forgotten about. So he holds on like his life depends on it, because that’s what it really feels like.

There’s an awkward pause before Niall’s father claps his hand together and says, “Well, Maura has prepared us a lovely meal, so let’s go eat!” Niall has never been more grateful for his father than in that moment. 

Niall pulls Zayn down the hallway to the bathroom, to clean up for dinner. Once they’re in there, Niall shuts the door and locks it. He grabs Zayn roughly and kisses him, holding his jaw in his hands while Zayn fumbles clumsily. By the time he’s gathered himself, Niall is pulling away.

“What was that for?” Zayn asks, breathless and wide eyed. 

Niall shrugs, smiling slyly. “Just wanted to kiss you, and remind you that whatever my parents say tonight doesn’t matter. It won’t make me want to date you any less. So don’t listen to any narrow minded comment they make.”

“Okay,” Zayn whispers, looking near tears. He kisses Niall lightly on the lips, a gentle movement of their lips. It’s the softest kiss they’ve shared so far and Niall wants no more and nothing less. It’s perfect, their fingers linked as they lean on each other for support. “Okay,” he repeats. 

“Ready to face the monsters?” Niall asks, only half joking. 

“Only if you’ll be by my side,” Zayn responds, squeezing Niall’s hand, his hand so tiny in Zayn’s palm. Niall can’t resist leaving another peck on Zayn’s lips before leading him down the seemingly endless hallway to the dining room. Once they reach the elegantly designed room, Zayn stops. 

“What’s wrong?” Niall asks, genuinely concerned. 

“You eat here? Every night?” Zayn stares in disbelief. 

Niall nods his head slowly, mouth slightly open. “Why?”

“It’s just…” Zayn shakes his head, needing to clear his thoughts and filter what he says, before he puts his foot in his mouth. His father always tells him that he has a tendency to do that. “It’s so big. And fancy.”

“Classy,” Niall’s mother butts in as she carries in a covered dish and sets it down at one end of the table. “And no, we do not eat here every night.” She sounds exasperated, hands on her hips as she stares down her sheepish son. “Only when we have company. Well, not even really then. It’s mostly special occasions, but we thought that meeting Niall’s boyfriend was a special enough occasion.”

“Yeah, I’m just messing with you, Zayn,” Niall admits. “We only eat here for, like, dinner parties. But. Mother decided you were pretty damn special and deserved the big dining table instead of the normal sized one off the kitchen.” Niall’s mother shoots him a warning glare before scurrying out of the room to grab more food. 

“Are they doing this to remind me that I’m not a part of this world?” Zayn asks rhetorically, tucking his hands into his pockets awkwardly. 

Niall nods reluctantly, head bowed liked a kicked puppy. “Basically. As I said before, don’t let anything my parents say to you get to you. They’re just upset because they don’t even approve me liking guys in the first place, let alone dating you. I think you’re kick ass, but my parents disagree.”

“Are you only dating me because your parents disapprove?” Zayn wonders curiously, just loud enough for him and Niall to hear, if anyone were standing outside the door listening. “Please tell me the truth. I deserve the truth. Because if you are dating me just because your parents wouldn’t like me, speak up now and I’ll be gone. I don’t want to be dated by someone who doesn’t even like me.”

“That’s definitely not how it is!” Niall protests, shaking his head furiously. His cheeks flare red and his eyes turn all sad, in a way Zayn is sure makes his heart crack right down the center, splitting it evenly in half. “I really like you! You’re interesting and make me laugh and make me think and you’re different than everyone else I know! It’s so amazing and refreshing to get a break from all that. To be able to be myself around someone. You don’t judge me and you’re a good kisser and I really like holding your hand.”

“That’s really sweet,” Niall’s father says, interrupting them as he comes into the room holding a steaming pot. “But hand holding doesn’t pay the bills.”

“It does if you’re a model,” Niall argues weakly, shooting Zayn a grim looking smile. He pulls out a chair and gestures for Zayn to sit with a sweep of his hand. “Please, Mr. Malik.”

“My pleasure,” Zayn jokes in a fake posh accent. He smiles warmly at the blonde, who’s breath catches as he stares. He finally manages to gather himself after the room goes awkwardly quiet and pushes Zayn’s chair back in. He clears his throat and runs his fingers through his hair, attempting to loosen himself up. It only semi works and he sighs as he takes the seat next to Zayn, seated in between the raven haired boy and his father, who sits perched at the very head of the table. 

Niall’s father holds up his glass of champagne with shaking fingers. With a deep breath and a voice that quivers, he speaks, “To Niall and his beautiful boyfriend. Pray that they not be using each other.”

Niall rolls his eyes and clinks his glass against his father’s. Zayn does the same and then clicks his with Niall’s and then Maura’s. They throw back their heads and toss their drinks to the back of their throats, swallowing hard and praying against all hope that the night will end soon. 

~

“Bye, mother!” Niall says harshly, clenching the wooden door tightly between his fingers. “Have a fun time tonight.” He speaks in short, clipped sentences, his voice cold and unwelcoming. “We’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Oh,” she gasps, hand held daintily to her chest, mouth slightly parted. “Is Zayn staying the night? Why, I had no idea. We need to set some ground rules, maybe we should call someone to watch you guys -“

Niall cuts her off with a harsh “goodbye,” and a slam of the door. He doesn’t turn to meet Zayn’s eyes, so pitying, and instead leans against the cool wood. It’s smooth and he almost slips as it warms up with his rugged breathing. He jumps when he feels a light touch on the center of his back. Turning, Zayn shares a thin-lipped, grim smile. 

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news…” he sighs, looking every bit remorseful. “But your mother is cheating on your father.”

“I’m sure anyone could have seen it coming,” Niall says before he’s tugging Zayn in by his shirt and is kissing him until they’re both breathless and panting, breathing in the other and out everything else that worries their minds.

Pulling away, Niall releases his fingers, so tightly gripping Zayn’s shirt there are wrinkle marks, and wipes his mouth. “Let’s take this to my bedroom?”

~

Getting up the stairs is a feat worthy of an award. They trip all over each other and duck their heads for heated kisses and jolt when their hands wander farther south. Niall’s never imagined losing his virginity on his stairs, but he’s so needy and overcome with lust that he figures he’d probably lose it just about anywhere. 

“God, you do these fucking things to me,” Zayn whispers against Niall’s lips, out of breath as they reach the top of the stairs. He shoves Niall against the wall and kisses away the words he might have replied with. “I can’t control myself when I’m around you.”

“So don’t.”

Zayn moans and leans his forehead against Niall’s shoulder. “I feel very…unmasculine at the moment. Can I pick you up? Bring back that feeling of masculinity that I am so very much missing.”

Niall giggles and nods, though he’ll deny the squeal he releases when Zayn literally sweeps him off his feet. “Though, unmasculine isn’t a word and I don’t know why I’m dating such an illiterate fool.”

Zayn smiles fondly and kisses the blushing blonde softly and slowly, carefully making his way to where he believes Niall’s bedroom to be. He pushes the slightly ajar door fully open with his sock clad foot, twirling a little just to see Niall’s smile. 

He lays Niall on the bed, standing there, staring down at the boy he’s so captured by, the one he’s slowly and surely falling in love with.

“Would you kick me if I said you were beautiful?” Zayn asks, his entire body itching to touch, to run his fingers along every part of Niall’s body until he’s shaking and needs it as much as Zayn does. He wants to touch Niall until Niall is breathing it, until it’s the only thing he remembers how to need and want.

“Not if you suck my dick,” Niall says and the moment is ruined, slipping from their fingertips and through the cracks in their broken glass. Zayn smiles, so small yet so blinding, a promise of something, anything better. 

“Okay,” Zayn agrees as he begins to unbuckle Niall’s belt and eagerly unzips his jeans. He pulls them down the blonde’s skinny legs, so pale in comparison to his own natural darkened skin. He takes Niall’s ankles, one in each hand that fits so snugly in his palm, and tugs him so he’s sitting just perched at the end of the bed, cock obscenely tenting his briefs. “Want you, so bad.”

Niall lets out little gasps, sharp breaths of air released quickly through his nose. Zayn noses at the grey colored under garments before digging his fingers into Niall’s hipbone and slips them under his waistband, contrasting so nicely against Niall’s innocent unmarked skin. Niall shivers as the spidery fingers slide easily against him, tugging down his briefs until they’re pooled at his ankles and Zayn is licking his length so cautiously. With a buck of his hips to indicate Zayn to stop teasing, he lets out a whimper and tangles his fingers into the raven hair once so perfectly styled now a wrecked mess. 

Zayn takes the head in his mouth, looking up through his thick, dark eyelashes and batting them innocently as his cheeks hollow and he makes indecent slurping sounds. He slowly starts to take in the rest of the length, gagging slightly around the length. Niall can’t control the buck of his hips when he feels Zayn’s throat contract around him. 

“Fuck, your mouth,” Niall mumbles almost incoherently. “Yeah, yeah.” He fists his calloused fingers into Zayn’s feather soft hair, tangling it and messing up the perfect style in which it had arrived in. 

Zayn pulls off with a pop, because he can feel Niall getting close. “Want you to come in me,” he explains at Niall’s whine. 

Niall’s eyes widen as his lips part in an almost silent gasp. “You want me to top?”

Zayn nods earnestly. “Yeah, I know it’s your first time and I want to make it easier any way I can. Come on, fuck me.”

Niall scrambles pull Zayn up on the bed, to flip them over, straddling Zayn’s narrow hips. His bones dig into the flushed blonde’s thighs, reminding him that he’s there, won’t let things so awry. Niall squeezes a piece of Zayn’s stomach in between his fingers and admires the way he squirms, how fluidly he moves. 

“Talk me through it?” Niall asks hesitantly. 

“Of course,” Zayn promises with a kiss and a spread of his legs. 

Zayn is a promise and Niall is a secret, so imperfect together. They contrast and differ in so many ways, that it was inevitable that they fell into a slowly burning teenage love. 

~

Laying in bed, Niall rests his head on Zayn’s bare chest, curling his stubby fingers onto the strong skin beneath him. 

“Thank you,” he mumbles quietly, words slung together and eyes blissed out. “Really, thank you.”

“Always,” Zayn says, and it’s a promise, because that’s what Zayn is. 

“What are we going to do next years? When we have to go off to college?” Niall worries, always looking ahead in his calendar, stressing himself out. 

Zayn pets the soft strands of hair unhurriedly. “Don’t worry about that.”

“Okay.”

Zayn stays quiet for a heartbeat, listening to Niall’s heavy breathing and watching the way his chest rises and falls. 

Finally, he whispers timidly, “I think I might want to spend the rest of my life with you, and that scares me.”

“I know.”

“Is that okay with you?” Zayn asks, stepping outside of his boundaries, taking an almost blind leap of faith. 

“Yeah,” Niall sighs warmly, his breath tickling Zayn’s skin and rising goose bumps.

Now Niall is the promise and Zayn is the secret.


End file.
